Weighted Memory of Mine
by KJsPlace
Summary: The past haunts us...shapes us...and often becomes a source of our fears. (OC, Past Story)
**Weighted Memory of Mine**

The overhead lights glinted off the blade spinning through the air, fractured reflections dancing across the tent fabric. The blades handle landed on a tanned palm briefly before been thrown upwards once more in a practised rhythm, deep ocean blue eyes following the blade as it spun, completely trusting the inanimate object.

"Come on, Jett, I'm going to go gray if you take any longer!"

Jett chuckled, catching the knife and looking over at the brown haired man grinning at him from his spot strapped to a giant cork layered wheel, his blue eyes sparkling in excitement. His father, Louis Wynters, was a daredevil, both at heart and in work. He was also going to be Jett's 'helper' for tonight's performance. But there wasn't an ounce of worry in his expression, having full faith in his ten year old sons abilities.

Seeing adults throw knives in the circus was nothing new and getting old, so the Ring Leader had decided that they would spice things up by having a child on the throwing end instead. Jett's mother, Sera, was firmly against the idea but Louis had been as delighted as his son at the chance. In true Wynter family fashion, Jett dove into his training, practising whenever he could for hours on end, perfecting his skills until, seven months later, he was finally ready to perform his first knife act in front of others.

To the side, Louis' close friend and the man who Jett called Uncle, Jonathan, stood by, first aide kit at hand just in case. It was a requirement to have someone ready to perform first aid when engaging in such activities considering the danger that could come from a simple slip up. And having someone who used to be a medical officer for the military was definitely handy. Jon watched the two, a smile on his face, proud to see Jett following in his parents footsteps

Jett smiled at his father, hitting a button that started turning the wheel, mentally counting the rotation time, finding its rhythm. It was that timing that was essential and could meant the difference between hitting your mark…and hitting your assistant. Louis's grin remained in place, nodding encouragingly at his son.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves and steady his focus, Jett picked up two knives from the table beside him, cocking both arms back to hurtle both straight at the wheel, smile widening as both embed themselves on the outside of his fathers' knees. Confidence growing, Jett picked up four more, taking aim and losing one after the other.

Louis's expression didn't change, keeping his smile in place to ensure Jett knew he was perfectly fine. During the show he would play his part, flinching when the knives were thrown to give the illusion he was at least worried over the fact a child held his life in his hands. Though he did let loose a chuckle when a few strands of hair floated down in front of his face after one blade sunk into the wheel above his head.

"Thanks. Your mum did say I needed a trim."

Jett laughed, laying out the six knives for the next stage of his act while Jon walked over, checking the straps were holding strong and the blades definitely hadn't nicked his skin anywhere. Glancing in the boys direction, Jon kept his voice low, asking

"Are you sure about this, Lou? He is only a child, after all." Louis gave his friend a smile.

"Of course. He'll never learn unless he gets to put his skills to the test. Stop worrying so much and have some faith, Jon!" Jon chuckled and nodded. 'Have Faith'. One of Louis' favourite catch phrase.

Stepping back, Jon flashed Jett a thumbs up signalling everything was good to proceed, taking his spot back at the sidelines where he would be for the show. Jett turned back to face the wheel, squaring up to it as he tapped the button again, speeding up the rotations. picking up all six knives, he flexed his wrists, the blades spinning round. But his eyes never wavered from the wheel, matching his rhythm to it.

The second the handle hit his hand, Jett flung it at straight at Louis, the knife burying itself right below his foot. Smile rising, he continued, juggling and throwing in a set pattern. Louis' continued to smile, watching as the last knife landed in his son's palm, arm cocking back before uncurling, wrist flicking in a practised motion as his grip on the blade loosened…

Canon fire suddenly rang out, the single noise causing Jett to jolt, head snapping over to the open tent door. He could hear the canon master, Nigel, calling out an apology mixed with a deep bellied laugh. Jett drew in a breath, trying to bring his heart rate back to normal before he felt it skip a beat when he realised the knife was no longer in his hand. Slowly, he turned back around to look toward the wheel and then he froze, eyes widening as the colour drained from his face, body feeling like it had been dumped into an icy lake.

Blood.

Dark red blood bubbling up around the knife blade lodged deep in his fathers' throat right between his collar bones, trailing down his now pale skin and rapidly staining his once white shirt. Jon was screaming, rushing over and trying to staunch the flow as others ran into the tent, drawn by his panicked yell. Jett found he couldn't turn his gaze away, couldn't move, could do nothing but stare at the scene before him, frozen in shock.

He was barely aware of the people gathering around him, unresponsive as someone knelt down, wrapping their arms around his body to pull him into their embrace. Over their shoulder, he watched wide eyed as several of the circus members lowered his father's body to the ground.

He was unaware he'd stopped breathing as he waited…hoping to see movement…see his father sit upright with that happy-go-lucky grin and claim it was all a joke…that they needed to learn to laugh more…another thing he was ever fond of saying…

There was nothing though. He remained where he was.

Limp. Lifeless.

Gone.

Jett fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands as tears streamed down his cheeks. He barely felt the hand rubbing his back in an attempt to calm him, the comforting words of those around him unable to piece the buzzing that filled his ears, words he knew would be telling him it wasn't his fault, that accidents happen. The buzzing ears grew louder before a loud, pained cry rang out through the tent…

…It took him a moment to realise it was his own.

* * *

 **Featuring: Jett Wynters (c) Me**

 **Topic: Memories**

 ** _"...You know, I think, even if I was given the option, I wouldn't want to forget any moment of my life...no matter how painful that memory may be..."_ -Jett Wynters**


End file.
